The Weight of A Name
by SkyeRose
Summary: But sometimes, when he least expected it, and without her meaning to, she would drown him with that weighted wave. When that snake had been in her head and her eyes changed from frigid to frightened and she'd screamed for him...-OneShot SamJack, team/family


**The Weight of A Name**

**A/N: Part drabble, part character introspective from a man we get very little on-screen introspection from. Rough and unedited because that's kind of how I picture Jack O'Neill's headspace.**

**Enjoy!**

_It was always his name. _

_Always his name that they called out as their eyes widened and their fingers curled around weapons that no longer mattered…always his name that he woke up to; shooting straight up in bed, the light leaving their eyes even as it found his. A unrelenting reminder of dreams to the waking and of fears to the fearless._

….

Before he'd joined the military, Jack O'Neill had never understood how much weight could nestle in a name. The first time he'd been in a firefight, his CO had yelled for him. He hadn't been sure why at the time; too much was happening around him and he was quickly getting tunnel vision. But his commanding officer's voice had held his name like an anvil and Jack had slowed and turned.

The bullet hit the tree in front of him instead.

Years passed and Jack learned that the weight, like time, was relative. He was at the mercy of who said it and how. His son had lifted the name from his shoulders, weightless as a balloon. His son's mother, as she screamed for him, was an iron anchor.

By the time Jack had taken command of SG-1, years and lives lived and lost later, he was well aware that the weight of the world could be housed in his name. What he hadn't anticipated was that the weight of the universe could fit in it too.

He hadn't thought it possible, but his team had become his family—quickly, almost desperately. Daniel gave his name the weight of expectation and, often, disapproval. _Jack_. He had this way of stretching up on his name, even though it was only one syllable. It stretched and weighed heavy, but also lifted. Daniel was nothing if not fair, and this held fast even in the weight he placed on Jack. The gravity was equal to the lift.

Teal'c was a man of few words and much force. The weight he gave Jack was in his last name, a rumble of respect and equality. The weight was a call to action and a hand for steadiness. _O'Neill_. He could feel the trade when the big man spoke- the heaviness left Teal'c as he placed his trust into him, as he shared the responsibility warrior to warrior. Jack took that weight with pride…with apprehension.

And then there was Carter. She often held the fate of the universe in her hands, but he'd be willing to bet that the smartest woman on the planet had no idea she held the weight of his universe with those same hands. _Sir._ A question, a laugh, an admonishment. She used the weight like a wave, ebbing and flowing, but always pulling him back in.

_Sir. _A gentle question on a frozen tundra.

_Sir._ Nervous, but firm as she meets his eyes behind the machine and watches the weight of their ranks take their toll.

_Yes, sir_. The most painful reminder, a bandaid being ripped off beneath a surface full of lies and labor.

_Sir._ A battlecry for a fallen commander, a tether fraying.

But sometimes, when he least expected it, and without her meaning to, she would drown him with that weighted wave. When that snake had been in her head and her eyes changed from frigid to frightened and she'd screamed for him - _Please, Jack, no Jack, please don't leave me._

_Jack_. Throat thick with tears, hair too long, and a marriage he would never know.

_Jack._ A statement, a breath of forgetfulness- concussion related of course- but her voice was so sure, like she'd always woken up saying his name.

_Please. Jack._ A whisper, a plea, even though he couldn't understand her words, he understood the weight.

That was the only time he suspected she knew exactly how heavy to make his name.

His team, his family, his weight.

It was a burden he bore silently, alone. A burden he could never tell them about because then, maybe, they wouldn't call him anything at all. And then he would be weightless and untethered, with no direction and no idea which way was up so that he could try to get back down.

It was always his name that their lips formed as they waited for the other shoe to drop. His eyes they sought when they knew there was no out, not this time. It was the weight of command, the weight of responsibility…of choice…of love. Because he did love them. All of them. Just…differently.

"Sir?" The wave ebbed. "Are you feeling alright? You look a million miles away." And it flowed.

"Well, you technobabbled at me." Jack blinked once, his face inscrutable. He was confident that not even the smartest woman in the galaxy had caught his dark train of thought.

"I did _not_." False affront, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Did so."

"Did not."

"Did not."

Sam quirked her eyebrow. "Reverse psychology, sir? Because we're two?"

"Well, it works on him." Daniel's impassive voice greeted Jack from behind, as the other two members of the flagship team strolled into the Major's lab.

Jack sat up a little straighter and narrowed his eyes. "Does not."

"Does too." Daniel dropped his book onto Sam's lab bench and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Does not." Sarcasm dripped from the colonel's tongue.

"Does not."

"Ha!" Jack pointed an accusatory finger at him. "Does _too!_" A pause. "Wait!"

Whatever his protest might have been was drowned out by the laughter of his team. Well, most of his team. But Teal'c's raised eyebrow and barest of smirks was as loud a guffaw as Daniel's to SG-1. Faking annoyance, Jack turned betrayed eyes to his 2IC.

Not even bothering to try and tone down her smile, his major shook her head at him and patted his arm sympathetically. Before she could pull away, he let his other hand come up and brush against the backs of her fingers. If anything, she grinned harder. His name was his weight, but her laughter was his release. If she was laughing, everything was okay. If she was laughing, he had to be doing something right.

A lifeline.

A weighted wave that ebbed and flowed, but she always made sure to pull him back in.

**A/N: I was rewatching season 6 (a season I definitely didn't appreciate when I was little) and was inspired by all the little light moments this season had tucked in the dialogue. There were some fantastic team moments, even though Daniel was missing for much of it. One of my favorite little moments is the beginning of 'Forsaken' when Jack sings a little love song and then oh so perfectly makes Sam laugh.**


End file.
